“Bingo,” Cullen said. “The Indomitus is an epic poem, written in Latin—very old Latin, from before the clans finished mangling it into its current form. Not that we use it much today,” he added with evident disapproval. “English is taking its place as our common tongue, just as it is with humans.”
Rule spoke dryly. “I think Lily would prefer a translation to a linguistic debate. The events in the poem are part of the Great War,” he told her. “The part I quoted refers to the staff of Gelsuid, who was an avatar of the goddess we don’t name.”
“Something tells me you aren’t talking about World War I. Don’t explain,” she added hastily. “Clan legends later. Just tell me why you think that bit of old poetry has something to do with the staff we’re hunting now.”
Cullen shrugged. “It’s the same staff, of course.”
“Come on. You have no reason to think—”
“When we were in Helen’s tender hands, you saw her holding a long, black piece of wood. That wasn’t what I saw.”
He hadn’t had eyes at the time, but Lily knew he’d still “seen” the sorcéri. Apparently the staff had shown up on his sorcerous radar screen, too. “I’ll bite. What did you see?”
“A wound, a rent, a tear in the fabric of the world. The wooden staff you saw may be a new construct, but the underlying truth of the staff is a very, very old rip in reality. That’s why you need me—to close that hole. ‘Cauterize the wound,’ as the poem says.” He was quite cheerful about it. “I’m good with fire.”
“You are,” Rule acknowledged. “But the Indomitus says to burn the staff with ‘black fire.’ I’ve never seen you use that. I’m not sure what it is.”
“Mage fire. It’s a bit dangerous. I’d no call to mess with it before, but I’m learning.”
Considering that Cullen found it amusing to play with stray sorcéri in her living room, she didn’t want to know what he considered “a bit dangerous.”
“I hope you’re learning well away from populated areas.”
He gave her a reproachful look. “But of course. It doesn’t pay to alarm the neighbors with the occasional fire.”
She opened her mouth to mention a few other hazards associated with fire—and yawned instead. “Sorry. You’d think a threat to the fabric of reality would keep me awake.”
‘To put it another way,“ Rule said, ”good night, Cullen.“
Cullen chuckled. “I can take a hint. I don’t always, but I can.” He came close enough to bend and drop a kiss on her cheek. “Get some sleep, luv. You can pester me with questions while I bedevil you with demands later.”
“Leave your phone turned on for once, and I will.”
“For you, I’ll keep it turned on.” He started for the door.
“Cullen…”
“Yes?” His eyebrows went up. “You’ve changed your mind? You’ll accede to my every wish?”
“What do you know about possession?”
“Not much. The religious honchos are bloody close-mouthed about it, always have been. Jealous of their turf, I imagine. Still, my knowledge, patchy though it may be, would be difficult to cover before Rule grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and tossed me out. Is there a more specific question you’d like to ask?”
Lily squirmed mentally, but got it said. “Why would faith be a protection?”
“Damned if I know.” He grinned. “Little joke there. I don’t know that faith is a protection.”
“Nettie believes it is. So does the FBI.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? Interesting… maybe The Exorcist got one thing right.” He turned his grin on Rule. “Remember when that came out? People thought it was for real. Bunch of idiots came crawling out of the woodwork, claiming to be experts. Lord, I remember this one ass on Phil Donahue—said he’d performed dozens of exorcisms. Dozens.” He chuckled.
Lily snorted. “You’re undercutting your credibility, Cullen. The Exorcist came out before I was born. You and Rule might have been out of diapers, but not by much.”
Cullen slid Rule an enigmatic glance. “Ah, you caught me. I do love to make myself sound important, but that was a bit obvious, wasn’t it?”
But he hadn’t been trying to sound important. He’d been chatting easily, conversationally, about something he expected Rule to remember—but that was absurd. Lily told herself she was being ridiculous, but the question came out anyway. “Just how old are you?‘
“Persuaded you I’m a well-preserved centenarian, have I?” Cullen’s smile was teasing. “Or maybe just sixty or seventy. I ought to be in the record books. I doubt there’s another stripper my age still performing.”
Rule’s flat voice cut him off. “Don’t.”
Lily’s stomach did the elevator thing—as if she’d plunged down so suddenly that gravity hadn’t kept up.
Cullen sighed. “Didn’t mean to put my foot in your mouth.”
“I know. I’ve put off telling her, hoping for the right time… which this certainly isn’t, but I won’t lie to her about it. Or ask you to.”
Lily found her voice. “Lie about what?”
He touched her hair. “I’m sorry, nadia. I should have told you.”
Told her what? Not what he seemed to be saying. That was preposterous. She shoved to her feet. “You are not a hundred years old.”
A smile touched his lips—young, firm lips. “No. Nothing so extreme. But I am older than I look. Older than I’ve allowed you to believe.”
Her heart was pounding. “How old?”
“Fifty-four. Cullen is a bit older.”
“Fifty-nine next June.” Cullen’s grimace was frankly apologetic. “I hope you noticed that I didn’t lie to you. Quite.”
She looked at the tall, beautiful young man claiming to be older than her mother and shook her head. “No, that isn’t possible.”
Neither of them answered. Cullen looked apologetic. Rule was wearing his inscrutable face, the one she couldn’t read worth shit.
They meant it. She began to pace. “How could I never have heard about this? How could you have fooled everyone all this time?” How could he have fooled her?
Rule rose. He moved so smoothly. He couldn’t be fifty-four. “We’ve gone to some extremes to keep it secret. Until three years ago, it was still legal to shoot us on sight in five states. How much worse would it have been if humans knew we live twice as long as they do?”
Twice as long?
Lily’s heart was pounding too hard, too fast. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. She’d known Rule was older than he looked—which was about her age. Twenty-eight. His assurance suggested a man beyond the mixed insecurity and infallibility of youth. Mid-thirties, she thought. That’s what she’d guessed him to be the first time she saw him. “Your driver’s license says you’re thirty-five.”
“Well.” Cullen stood and headed for the door. “Never let it be said I’m not a sensitive guy, and I’m sensing that I’m not wanted right now.” He reached for the knob.
“Wait,” Rule said. “Can you set some kind of wards here? Otherwise we’ll have to crate up Harry and head to my apartment.”
“Sure, I could do something. Not true wards—they’d take too long—but a bit of ‘don’t see me’ might do the trick. Tidy little spell. Doesn’t use much power. Fuzzes the mind so people can’t quite locate the spot I tie it to. I don’t know if it works on demons, though.”
“I’d prefer to keep demons out.”
“I don’t know of anything that will do that,” Cullen said frankly. “Some believe holy symbols work, but I’m skeptical. In the old days… but we can’t work with what was, can we? In any event, you’ve got an alarm system in place. Cats hate demons. Harry’ll set up a howl if one comes near.”